


Dean's Story

by am3ria



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Marriage, POV Dean Winchester, Passage of time, seriously, tags suck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 07:46:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10872321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/am3ria/pseuds/am3ria
Summary: Dean's only ever known a life with Castiel. This chronicles the largest moments they shared together in their lives.When you were four years old your mother was still holding you on her hip, filling in first day paperwork at your first ever day of daycare when another woman came in toting a raven haired boy on her hip.





	Dean's Story

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't even know what perspective this would be considered. It's not exactly first person and it's not exactly third person? What's second person? Is that a thing? I can't remember! I probably shouldn't be writing if i don't remember English class.
> 
> I wrote this last night in about an hour on my iPhone so it's probably kind of a mess. Short and choppy and messy. All mistakes are my own, of course. 
> 
> I've definitely never written anything this way before, from this odd perspective, so I apologize in advance. Feedback is the best part of my day!

When you were four years old your Mother was still holding you on her hip, filling in first day paperwork at your first ever day of daycare when another woman came in toting a raven haired boy on her hip. Your mother told you, when she was done, "bye honey" and "I love you" with a kiss on the forehead for punctuation and "make some friends" and "I'll see you in a while" before she was out the double doors, leaving you stranded and scared and alone without your Mother for the first time in your life.

That raven haired boy tapped you on the shoulder, smiled, offered his hand and you took it. You followed your new comrade to the playground where you both plunked down in a sand box. He held out a toy and you took it with a gleeful grin. "I'm Castiel," he had told you at lunch time when you were pulling out a juice box and a sandwich. "Dean" you had said around a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly.

When your Mother picked you up later that day you gushed about the raven haired boy with the strange name that you couldn't pronounce. "Castree- Castee- Cassiel- Casteal-" you huffed, and you pouted, and you said, "Cas. His name was Cas."

 

* * *

 

 

When you were six you started kindergarten. Your best friend started alongside you. You still couldn't say Castiel quite right but you'd been calling him Cas for two years so it sounded off to hear everyone else saying his full name anymore, teachers and students and other parents alike. "Call me Cas" he had said to all of them and you felt fit to burst with pride that your name for him became the one he chose to live by.

You played with the tool sets while Castiel placed with the cookware ones and read books. You pushed little toy cars around, raving about how you'd have ones just like all of them someday while Castiel snorted his laughter at you from behind the pages of a paperback.

You teased each other relentlessly, lovingly. You the boneheaded muscle man and him the brainy bookworm. You never stopped viewing each other that way even when you grew up and into your bodies and into your interests and Castiel filled into an athletic body just as much as you did. He was still always going to be your scrawny little bookworm best friend.

 

* * *

 

 

At twelve years old your voice started to crack. Puberty was a strange and horrible thing. You didn't understand what was happening to your body and Castiel, who had always been the same height as you, was suddenly shorter and you ached from the growth spurt all over. You started getting hair in new places that you frowned at. It was dark where the hair on your head was light and so coarse when you touched it. Castiel caught up with puberty several months later.

One Summer evening you laid in the grass next to your best friend. The air was warm and dry but the grass was collecting a layer of dew that had mosquitoes arriving by the dozens. Suddenly, you were rolling over onto your side and one of your hands landed on Castiel's cheek. He blushed and seemed to shrink into the green of the blades of grass and yellow of the dandelions that looked not unlike a halo around his head.

"What are you doing?" He asked and you said "can I kiss you?". He'd turned a shade of red you'd never seen before and he said "no", and then he grabbed a fistful of your shirt, flustered, and said "I mean, yes". You shared your first kiss with Castiel that night, swatting at the bugs as they landed and bit, terribly awkward as your lips bumped uncomfortably against each other from the many distractions that swarmed around both your heads.

Your next kiss was when you took him home that same night and pressed him against the door, his arms shyly folded behind his back. You turned your head just so and slotted your mouths together and the improvement from just an hour earlier was something you would remember all through your life.

The next time you kissed was sitting on the curb, waiting for the bus to come. It was chaste as the first two, dry and so innocent. Castiel had slowly crept his fingers over until his hand covered your own. You held tight as you waited and held tighter when you sat down together on the seat, bouncing on the cheap vinyl that made both of you sweat but you refused to let go.

 

* * *

 

 

When you were fifteen you and Castiel were still stealing kisses but your bodies had started going from awkward broken voices and strange tufts of hair to filling in and filling out and the erections that popped up at the most inconvenient times left you red faced and speechless. You wore a lot of very tight jeans that kept your cock crushed whenever it tried to rise to avoid embarrassment at school.

When Castiel came over on Friday after school he always stayed until Saturday afternoon. You wore sweatpants one evening when the surprise sign of arousal snuck up on you. You gasped, grabbed a pillow, held it over you. Castiel furrowed his brows, tilted his head, and inspected you for a moment before his eyes went wide and realization dawned on him. He smiled sympathetically, understanding your plight, and turned his attention back to the movie you'd been watching.

That evening you didn't sleep well knowing what your best friend had witnessed.

Several months later when you woke up on a Saturday morning with the same problem you rolled over, groaning, and pressed your hips into the mattress, willing it away. The friction did nothing to aid you and with resentment for your own sexuality you glared down your body for several moments before you heard shuffling beside you. You looked up to see Castiel, half awake, offering a up a sheepish expression. He was that same colour of red as he was during your first kiss when his fingers reached out, anxious and twitchy, and he said with them still floating in the air "can I- help?"

You gawked at him for a long time before you nodded, lips parted and mouth dry. You used both hands to push your sweats and underwear down and your erection laid up against your stomach, head still hidden beneath the foreskin and Castiel had made a little gasping noise. You attempted to cover yourself but his hand on your thigh stopped you. "I just-" he started, and his hand drifted to close loosely around you. It felt so foreign, someone else touching you for the first time. You'd masturbated a hundred times but even with his hand dry and motionless and calloused you felt a jolt of pleasure at the idea of someone else wanting to touch you. At your life long best friend wanting to. "I'm circumcised" he had said, finally finishing his thought and like something out of a porno Castiel had leaned his head over your lap, spit on your cock, cold and damp and making your hips buck at the sensation and your toes curl, and started to stroke.

You came quickly and asked Castiel if you could return the favour. He had nodded and you found the word _pretty_ came to mind when you looked at the flushed skin that slipped underneath your palm, looking so similar but so different from your own. He had whispered your name, gripping the sheets of your bed in two tight fists as he came. You'd never heard anything that sounded better.

After that, you exchanged hand jobs under rumpled bed sheets every Friday night for many months.

 

* * *

 

 

It was your eighteenth birthday the first time you and Castiel made love. You'd been an out and proud couple for over a year but you were taking things slow. It seemed like the choice came naturally that you would be the one to take him. You had both known it was the right one when the lengths of your bodies were pressed together, Castiel's cock trapped between your bellies as you rolled your hips into him. It had overwhelmed you how you reached your orgasms at the same moment, like some profound connection was flowing between you. You both breathed heavily and slept easy that evening, murmuring "I love you" back and forth into the youngest hours of the morning, naked and curled against each other.

 

* * *

 

 

You were nineteen when the bluest eyes you had even known were a dull, pixelated thing that you could only witness through FaceTime and Skype and quickly snapped pictures on phones and webcams. Castiel had gone away for college, would be gone for years. You'd both promised to see each other as often as you could. Swore the distance could never make you love each other any less. You dreamt of blue eyes every night you didn't see them via some form of technology.

 

* * *

 

 

At twenty-five you proposed. You had spent months trying to plan something extravagant but one night when Castiel came home to your shared apartment, tired and grumpy and wanting nothing more than to sleep you had spilled your guts too quickly, worried you'd miss the moment again. "Marry me," you all but barked at him, falling to your knees in a less than graceful way. You scrambled for your pockets and produced a simple silver band. Castiel didn't like flashy things, you knew that. Castiel had cried. It was only the second time you'd ever seen tears in his eyes, the first time being the night he'd left for college.

At twenty-six you became the luckiest man in the world who also got lucky in the bathroom stall after "I do" but before the reception.

The next time you'd see him cry would be at twenty-eight when you had asked him how he felt about adoption. You'd decided on a surrogate instead, together, and at thirty you both cried in a hospital room holding the tiniest human you had ever laid eyes on. You named him Gabriel and you soon found out that the only thing that could test your bond with Castiel would be chasing the little devil you'd named after an arch angel.

 

* * *

 

 

When you were thirty-four you welcomed Anna into the world. Your family was whole, your life was complete. You had the white picket fence, the wrap around porch, a classic car and an old pick up truck with two beautiful children and two well trained dogs. The apple pie life. Your brother had just gotten engaged and your home in the countryside with the acres of land it laid on was where he wanted to wed his bride. You had been the proudest brother in the world and an excellent best man that following Summer.

Your brother let you know the same night that you were going to be an Uncle. You nearly exploded with the love you felt. First came Ruby, then Michael, and finally Meg. You were surprised by the fact that your sweet brother with his sweet wife had two girls with wicked streaks a mile long and a boy so book smart and uptight you weren't entirely convinced Castiel hadn't somehow impregnated Jessica. Timid Anna took to Michael while excitable Gabriel took to the girls.

 

* * *

 

 

When you were forty-four Gabriel was spreading his wings. It was far too early for Castiel to accept and they bickered constantly. You and Anna spent a lot of time working on cars in the garage to avoid the dramatics. She became a "daddy's girl". When she was seventeen you had choked up at her graduation, sniffling into your sleeve as your baby walked the stage, smiling for pictures as she held up her diploma.

 

* * *

 

You were fifty-five when your Mother passed away. Nothing in your life prepared you for the pain or how lonely your Father was. He came to live with you, stayed in Gabriel's old room now that he was grown and out on his own, living with a girl he'd met at his performing arts school.

At fifty-eight you felt you were barely over your Mother when your Father passed away. The last thing he said was how proud he was of you and your brother for the men you became. Castiel had called your employer to say you needed far more than a week off. He'd taken time off himself and for the second time in your relationship he'd curled around you, the big spoon, comforting you as you sobbed into your pillow.

Seven weeks later Gabriel called to tell you that you were going to be a Grandfather.

Thirteen weeks after that Anna called to tell you she was engaged.

 

* * *

 

At sixty you and Castiel retired. You took a cruise to the Bahamas. You took a cruise to Alaska. You flew across an ocean to visit Europe. Paris was exactly as romantic as you had expected it to be. You made love with the same passion for each other that existed all those years ago when you were just teenagers, learning it all together.

You stroked a hand through his greying hair and told him he'd never looked more beautiful to you. It was the same thing you told him every anniversary. He'd rolled his eyes and kissed the tip of your nose. It was the same thing he did in response every anniversary.

 

* * *

 

 

You were seventy when you got sick. It was too soon. You could feel it in your bones as you laid in a hospital bed. Your children would visit. They'd bring their children. Your brother and his wife and their children and their children's children would visit. There was always someone at your side. You were so, so loved. Castiel was always gripping your hand as tight as he had on the bus that first time when you were just kids.

Eventually you lacked the strength to hold his hand back. He would stroke your white hair, his blue eyes watery, kiss your forehead, his pink lips dry. "I love you" he would tell you every night before they made him go home a half hour after visiting hours had ended.

 

* * *

 

 

You were seventy-four when your own eyes were wet. It was still too soon. You were far too young. You had so many years left you should be together. You couldn't leave Castiel alone yet. How could you ever leave him alone? You never had in the past seventy years. You whimpered when Castiel squeezed your hand and in a wrecked voice, filled with gravel and sadness, told you "it's okay, Dean. You need to sleep now. I'm okay". Your eyes shut for the last time with his lips pressed against your temple, his fingers laced into your own, and the wetness of his tears dripping onto your sunken cheek.

You nodded, you smiled sadly, brokenhearted to leave the love of your life and your best friend behind without you but you knew he understood that you just couldn't carry on anymore. Castiel always understood everything about you. You could have never asked for anything, or anyone better. You laid your weary head to rest.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry.


End file.
